Far Beyond our Comprehension

Turning to agnosticism, he dismisses it as a principle and reaches for Bertrand Russell’s teapot…This move is something of a reflex among atheists: they should adopt the teapot as their symbol. Their point and Russell’s was that not being able to disprove the existence of such an object does not warrant belief in it; their implicit message is that gods are also trivial human artefacts. God is thus detached from the terrible and exhilarating question of why anything should exist at all. Instead, Dawkins recasts agnosticism as a humdrum matter of probability captured by a spectrum of opinion-poll responses. But it is possible, along with Dawkins, to be a de facto atheist who lives on the assumption that there is no God, while remaining awed by the possibility that we cannot begin to comprehend how far beyond our comprehension the question may be.

Of course it is. But I see that from an angle opposite to the one from which Kohn (apparently, if I understand him correctly) does. The awe he cites has to do with how far beyond our comprehension the question may be – really how far, really beyond. But it seems to me that answering ‘God’ to such questions simply reels the answer in from that far beyond to make it near and local again. I know some people say god is distant, beyond comprehension, not to be pinned down by our poor words, all that, but if they call it ‘God’ at all they don’t really mean it, or at least if they call it ‘God’ that’s deceptive labeling. God is local, God is a person, God hears our prayers, God is a character in a book. It’s no good pretending that’s not true, because that’s how the word is generally used – it is not generally used as a word for ‘far beyond, unknown, incomprehensible’. (If it were, believers would shut up about God, but they don’t.) I think the implicit message that Kohn cites is quite right: gods are trivial human artifacts. If you do in fact remain awed by the possibility that we cannot begin to comprehend how far beyond our comprehension the question may be, then you find the pat one-syllable answer ‘God’ to be laughably unsatisfactory, irrelevant, provincial, and, frankly, trivial.

And another thing.

Dawkins does not admit sympathy for believers, or acknowledge the extent to which religion may constitute their sense of identity. He disregards the risk that attacking a people’s religion may amount to an attack on them as a group. Some comments and quotes in this respect are reckless.

Reckless? But if there is a risk that attacking a people’s religion may amount to an attack on them as a group, then there is also a risk that attacking a people’s politics or hobby or profession may amount to an attack on them as a group – but people aren’t generally frowned at for attacking a people’s politics or profession, are they? So why should religion be in a special category? I know that’s a question I’ve asked before, more than once; I’m asking it again.

I still think you are creating a false dichotomy with regard to the usage of the word “God”. God does not have to be “far beyond, unknown and incomprehensible” in order not to be “local, personal, a character in a book”.

And there [I]is[/I] a tradition of using “God” as not-local, distant, not a bearded guy sitting on a cloud raining down lightning, etc. – from Aristoteles’ prime mover to Deism to Process Theology. Or take the God of Calvinism – personal, yes, takes things [I]very[/I] personally; wrathful, oh yes; but utterly, painfully, bleakly non-comforting at the same time. Atheism is chicken soup for the soul compared to the punishing, predestinating God of Reformed theology. In my opinion, raising kids in some of the stricter versions of that particular brand of faith almost [I]would[/I] constitute child abuse. One of the few things I’d agree with Dawkins with, as far as religious matters are concerned.

Again, you seem to be arguing that God is either 1) unthinkable or 2) a fuzzy, comforting imaginary friend – but I see no reason why this should be true.

As for your second remark – you’re right, of course. Statements can be valid, invalid, brilliant, stupid – but their recklessness is quite irrelevant. If you feel that your statement is true, you should say so, reckless or not. We have enough people being quiet because their beliefs are considered “reckless” provocation to whatever testosterone-filled trigger-happy group is in question, as it is.

Depends on the perlocutionary force of the statement. If you print a leaflet saying “Merlijn skins kittens and has babies buried in his backyard!”, provide my address, and spread it around my neighbourhood, I might indeed object. Even if it were true ;-)

But cases like these are never meant when for example the quoted writer object to “reckless” statements, or when the Guardian decides to defend freedom of speech by not printing some cartoons. It’s always about hurting some collective sensibilities.

Okay, so what you’re saying is that you shouldn’t take into account whether what you say will hurt people before you say something that is true.

Sorry Merlijn, I have too much sympathy with utilitarianism to think that this is a no brainer.

I tend to think that if one can say something that is true in a way that won’t hurt or offend then one should choose this option rather than a contrary option. This, of course, requires that one at least takes into account how “reckless” one’s statements are.

Hurt or offend? I can see how the truth might hurt, but it seems to me that offence is something that is taken rather than given. One may simply choose not to be offended. Also a utilitarian balances the ‘hurt’ caused by telling the truth against the ‘hurt’ caused by withholding the truth, and the calculation is usually far from simple.

So what you’re saying then is that if I call a black person a “fucking nigger” then offence is taken but not given?

Okay, maybe I can buy that, but I don’t think it makes a difference; if I’m aware that my words are likely to be taken as being offensive then I should take that into account.

And of course the utilitarian calculation is complex. My point is simply that it is not irrelvant whether one’s statements are reckless. My other point is that all other things being equal it is better not to use words that are likely to be taken as being offensive when one can use words that are not likely to be taken as being offensive. This doesn’t say anything about whether or not one chooses to use said words in any *particular* circumstance – the moral calculus, etc., may well normally come out in favour of offending.

“all other things being equal it is better not to use words that are likely to be taken as being offensive when one can use words that are not likely to be taken as being offensive.”

But…taken as being offensive by whom? Under what circumstances? Is it even possible to say something that is not likely to be taken as being offensive by someone somewhere? And is there not often an inverse relationship between the substantiveness and insight of a thing said and its capacity for being taken as being inoffensive? In other words, is one not increasingly likely to say things that someone somewhere will take as being offensive, the more one analyzes or criticizes or disagrees with received wisdom and lazy thinking? In other, other words, one is least likely to say something that someone will take as being offensive if one says banal, empty, anodyne, conventional things, and most likely if one tries to say something more searching. Perhaps you’ll say that that’s covered by all other things being equal and when one can use words and the moral calculus – but then it’s not clear (to me at least) what you’re saying.

Don’t you sometimes say things you know people will take as being offensive? (Well you do it to me all the time, of course, but I mean even besides that.) That discussion of spreading democracy for instance? Didn’t you do some deliberate offending there, partly in order to tease out the arguments?

Another problem I have with this idea is that much taking things as being offensive right now seems to be self-perpetuating and self-fulfilling – and self-righteous, too. People get a lot of ink by declaring themselves offended; a lot of ink and a lot of respectful sympathy. If they’re offended about something that (arguably) grownups have no business being offended by, it seems better to me in some cases to treat their offendedness with ridicule and contempt rather than with respectful sympathy – so I’m not sure I agree with your point (I’m also not sure you do).

And then of course there’s the whole question of how one knows. It’s guesswork, isn’t it. BBC journalists shouted at Flemming Rose as if he had known in advance that people would die in riots over the Motoons, but of course he didn’t and couldn’t possibly have.

Yes, but I had two points which I thought I expressed quite clearly! :)

1. Whether statements are reckless or not is relevant in terms of a moral calculus;

2. *All other things being equal* it is better not to offend than to offend;

Your point is that all other things are very often not equal. Well that’s why I said:

“in any *particular* circumstance – the moral calculus, etc., may well normally come out in favour of offending.”

And also you suggest that it might well be difficult not to be reckless (because somebody somewhere will be offended).

I’m not so sure about that. I think I could say what Dawkins and Dennett say, make their points, yet express them more temperately.

I think the point about whether I’m offensive is something of a red herring. After all, as you have argued here, it makes a difference where you say these things. I’m not Dawkins, and the Future of Cities conference – where I probably did offend people (since I was called repellent!) – wasn’t going to make any difference to anybody and anything. And because my point is largely a utilitarian one – that counts.

Anyway, am I not right in thinking that you have also said that you’re not keen on gratuitous offence? I get that we can argue about what comprises gratuitous offence, but my view is that Dawkins sometimes oversteps the mark. And I say that as someone who pretty much thinks that The Selfish Gene and The Extended Phenotype are the best bits of popular science writing ever.

Okay, okay, I know, and that’s why I said “Perhaps you’ll say that that’s covered by all other things being equal and when one can use words and the moral calculus”! And the Dawkins and Dennett thing clarifies what you meant.

Yes, you probably are right. I don’t specifically remember saying I’m not keen on gratuitous offence, but I’m not, so no doubt I’ve said as much at some point!

I think I sort of understand why Dawkins oversteps the mark. It’s a Voltaire/Twain/Mencken type move, I’m thinking. I do the same thing myself. The idea is that a little blunt language can shake up comfortable assumptions, can wake people up. But, of course, it can also simply backfire, and cause pain in the process. So I take your point.

I think the thing about Dawkins and Dennett is that it’s a little bit relentless if you basically agree with them. But that’s just a personal thing probably.

I suppose the bottom line is that I think that it is possible to disagree with people without making them feel as if they are idiots. And though I think that there is room for polemical stuff – as my interventions here, no doubt demonstrate – I think it can be different when one is writing books (though not always – WTM had polemical stuff in it, obviously, but then it also had careful stuff).

“I think that it is possible to disagree with people without making them feel as if they are idiots.”

Sure. Possible, and also desirable. I think it’s just that sometimes the intention is, not to make people feel as if they are idiots, but to try to jar them out of familiar thinking patterns – and of course it may be that that works for some of the readers while it offends others. It’s a difficult balance – as you know: I think we talked about that sort of balance endlessly while writing WTM.

Take a look at the reviews on Amazon of The God Delusion (all 53). Not their detail, but the distribution of scores. The trend is that people either love the book or hate it. Of course there will be a bias here in that if you feel strongly one way or the other, you’re more likely to write a review (there will other biases as well), but wasn’t it entirely predictable that atheists would love the book and theists not?

If I wrote a book called “The God Delusion”, if I had to choose, I’d want it to be the other way around.

Note: I left out the “somes” there (i.e., some atheists/some theists) – that’s because I don’t agree with you about that stuff!! :)

You don’t agree with me about which stuff? I don’t think it would make sense to put in ‘somes’ there – that would ruin your point. Oh – the stuff about some Muslims being offended as opposed to all Muslims being offended? But that’s different stuff! And you’re wrong not to agree with me about it.

I’ve thought further on all this though, and I think there is a real reason for the bluntness of both Dawkins and Dennett. I think it could be in large part because it has become almost obligatory to be apologetic and hesitant about criticizing religion in public (in newspapers etc). There’s something to be said for that, on grounds of kindness, compassion, good manners, etc, but it also has some unfortunate effects, particularly in training people (especially younger people, who’ve come of age in this atmosphere, and know no other) to think that it’s a suspect activity. I think D and D want to perform unabashed unapologetic blunt atheism not for instance because they’re under any illusion that that’s particularly courageous for people situated as they are, or that it’s particularly admirable or rebellious or anything like that, but largely in order to show that it’s a possible option. There was that high school student Dennett talked about in his ‘Brights’ [shudder] editorial, who had thought he was more or less the only unbeliever in the world, and was hugely relieved to hear Dennett quite calmly talk about atheism.

So it’s not all preaching to the choir. Some of it is throwing a lifeline.

Oh yes, sure, I think it might just be. Except…they both do talk about this kind of thing, so I do find it a little unlikely that it plays no role at all. (The high school kid was central to Dennett’s op ed – he stood for the need for the whole idea.) But of course it could be both, and probably is.

You’re wrong to think I know you’re always right; therefore you’re not always right; therefore you can be wrong about somes thing; and you are.